One Bullet Left
by Bloody Fae
Summary: A series of one shots featuring the horrors that torment five superheros living in a giant T.[Ch7.. Beast Boy is an addict of telecommunications..]
1. Paint

Disclaimer: Yeahh, you know.

Paint

Raven's hand slid across the paper. A dash here, a line there.

Curves, a circle. Details, shading.

The images in her head begged for release. They screamed at her in dreams, whispered in the silence of her room, danced pictures across her memory that would not leave.

But the violet haired girl had found a way. She had found a way to exorcise her own demons.

Her pencils moved quicker now. Fire, dashes of smoky flames, a high moon hidden just behind..

She watched with a keen eye as her hand moved with it's own will to create the picture. It haunted her, the images always frightened her, but she forced herself to continue.

And as she worked, her mind slid away. It found it's way over thoughts, conversations, imagery…

They had started a long time ago, too long ago for her to remember correctly. Back then they were nothing, simply depressing thoughts, the musings of her own dark mind. She had paid them no mind, she was still a hero surrounded by her favorite people…she was just being melodramatic, gothic, creepy.

There was no one to tell, and no need to. She dealt with anything troubling herself, there was no need to worry anyone else. Headstrong? Maybe she was… but then she had always been too independent.

From there they had worsened. The images were bolder, twisted, they drove deep into her mind to settle. Death, torture, things too unspeakable.

And then they were accompanied by noise. Silent screams ushering her, begging to be saved. It had awoken her hero instinct at once, they needed saving!

Bristling her awake at two am, Raven had found no one needing to be saved beside herself.

Night after night, their were people, screaming, drying. They pleaded with her, why was she leaving them to suffer?

One night she had awoke in a cold sweat, the noise had been following her. Her tired eyes had flown open to greet the darkness of the room.

The voices rang in her ears still. They sounded the same as her dreams, they had failed to fade into her conscious. Raven had pressed her hands to her ears, but the noise was in her head and would not be silenced…

The sharp tip of her pencil spit lead across the paper. Mouths agape, dead screams in their lungs, she drew it all.

After that night the voices had continued to follow her into the waking world. They would only leave with the sunrise when Raven had pushed herself into a corner, painfully pressing hands to her ears.

And she would cry for them. Silent tears when the noise wouldn't leave. Why were innocent people suffering? Why couldn't she help them?

The voices almost reminded her of the noise of silence. When a room was completely quiet, but there was still that sound..

But amplified, drowning out all other things.

The images continued to create themselves across her mind. Blood, terrified eyes and scars… cold darkness, loneliness…

It was the fears of the world, and she lived with them every minute of her day. She told no one, how could she?

Voice's and graphic images, it was a one way ticket to an insane asylum. They would lock her up in a room with nothing to do but listen to the voices and see the images behind her eyes.

She would have nothing to illustrate with.

Raven's pencil moved down the lines. Dripping blood smeared across a dirty, unforgiving ground.

She paused, looking the drawing over once or twice. Her eyes examined each line before delicately putting the horrid image together. It was perfect, her nightmare on paper.

She set down the pencil, reading for her brushes and paint bottles. Color was the final step.

She used the moonlight for her images. It was too risky to have a regular light on at this hour. She didn't want to risk someone investigating. There would be no way to explain her early morning hobby.

Raven grabbed the red first, it was always the first color to be used. She shifted, folding her legs Indian style before unscrewing the red.

Uncaring, she squirted a quarter sized portion onto her leg before dipping a larger paint brush into it.

It looked like fresh blood bubbling on her pale skin. It made her shiver as she leaned a little over to brush on the red.

There had been only one titan to take notice of her change. It was only because of his detective ways that he caught it in the first place.

She had messily cleaned the paint away one morning as she made her tea. Robin had asked her about a smudge of red on the side of her hand. With groggy eyes she had told him and was nothing and poured herself some tea.

After that he had been watching her carefully. He picked up whenever she was much more tired or pale, the times she was up far too early and whenever she was reluctant to sleep.

But the entire time, beside him mentioning the red stain, he hadn't said a thing.

Raven knew in the way he looked at her he was dying to ask, his promise to her privacy kept him at bay.

He still kept a conscious watch for her, trying in his own way to put together what was wrong.

If only he knew, she thought grimly, dashing red in the flames line art. She coated it again where the blood dripped across his skin, her brush moving quicker.

She reached for the black next, spitting a splotch onto her skin before dipping the paint brush for the right amount.

Black was for the cold, lost look of the eyes, the thick smoke from the flames, it blended with the red for a dark blood color.

She worked faster now. Her hand was moving around, a dash there, shading here, highlighting.

Emotion.

It painted quick and thick across the parchment. The colors suddenly came faster. The screams attacked her ears, crying, urging, driving her mad.

Raven slapped on a dark blue, immediately unsatisfied. Her eyes watered at the failing image. She dropped the brush, brushing her finger across the blue. It smeared under her finger.

She needed it faster. It had to be done, she was running out of time.

Her art did take time, but sometimes she didn't notice the time passing. Sometimes sunrise came too quickly. When it did, the voices followed her into the day. The mystic could not take that kind of thing anymore.

Her nails scratched at the paper, angry colors were swirling recreating the fierce imagery. She dipped her finger into the paint occasionally, touching up the glow of the lost eyes, deepening the fire or the cuts…

The noise was coming to a crescendo, it was almost-

Her nail dashed across the skin of one of the figures, deepening the blue color of his eyes. She fixed the red of another's hair.

The blue of circuits…the pale fauna tone of one's skin.

Paint smearing. Emotions mixing, thoughts jumbling.

And fire, fire overtaking it all. Demons pulling away at the last of their lives, blood pooling around the failing bodies…

Raven sighed, pulling her hands back. She tilted her head to the side for a moment as the moonlight glimmered off the wetly painted image.

It was perfect. Perfectly haunting, just as in her mind. It was four familiar people…their souls being eaten alive.

The sound of people shrieking was dying down. Morning was approaching. It was another night of little sleep for the girl.

Needless she would march downstairs like every other day, the nightmare forgotten until night spread across the city again.

Raven picked up the painting, admiring her work. Her demons were put to rest, satisfied with their trickery. She swiped the last of the paint off her skin before standing with her painting.

Silently she padded across the room to slide the painting in behind her bookcase. It was where they all went so none would find them. It wouldn't be long before the countless drawings and paintings stared poking out, dying to be seen.

Raven yawned, wiping the unshed tears from her eyes with worn fingers. How long had it been since she had slept the entire night? Too long for her to remember now.

She turned, heading toward her door. She would wash her hands quickly before taking her morning route downstairs.

Already she knew a certain detective would be waiting for her, only to ask her how she slept.

Oh, how she wished to one morning be able to give him a truthful answer.

Just a little one shot that was in my head. Don't even ask where this stuff comes from, I have no idea.

Please review and tell me what you thought.

:Bloody Fae:


	2. Ring Around the Rosies

****

Disclaimer: Me no own.

Chapter 2: Ring Around the Rosies

Starfire grabbed another of the silvery cans. It glimmered in the dimming light of the kitchen.

The tower was vacant save for her. She couldn't remember where the other Titans had gone to… but then did it matter?

She crunched the cylindrical object in her hand until the liquid started seeping out. Eagerly, she raised it above her, so the liquid would drip down into her mouth. She lapped at it, as some dripped down her chin.

At first it had seemed bitter and Starfire had been unwilling to continue.

But then a flighty sort of feeling filled her insides. It brushed her mind, lulling it into a passive state. She liked that.

She couldn't remember the heartache. She didn't remember pain... or how to cry.

Starfire could only image this was how Raven always felt. It was blissful.

The drink was tough going down, but took immediate reaction to her body. Starfire hiccupped, the can falling from her hand. Her breath was heavy, and smelled deeply of the drink. She pushed away from the counter to search out another.

She couldn't let this feeling fade, it was too lovely.

After stumbling in her high top shoes, the Tameranian quickly pulled them off. In the process, she tipped her weight and crashed into the ground. But it didn't hurt. Nothing hurt. Her shoes slid off but the girl couldn't find the heart to care.

Dazed, Starfire sat on the floor a few seconds trying to remember why she wanted to get up…

Oh yeah.

She pushed herself up on wobbly feet and moved over to the opposite counter. There- way up near the ceiling, just barely visible, were more of those shiny cans. Only the light playing across the room had alerted her that there was something there at all.

Starfire heaved herself onto the counter (knocking an assortment of items off in the process). She should just grab them all... it was getting too hard to get back up to retrieve one can at a time.

Finally on the counter, she kneeled to steady herself, before fully standing. Her legs felt like jelly and it was funny. Grinning goofily she reached up for the few cans left.

How many had she gone through? There had been at least…she counted on her fingers… more than her two hands.

Starfire hiccupped again, her fingers gracing a smooth surface. She pressed closer to the cabinet to pull the cans off the shelf. Reaching… just a little more…

It turned out those left were attached. They came down past her with a satisfying crash on the floor below. The liquid oozed out onto the floor. Unfazed, Starfire jumped down from the counter. She landed ungracefully and tumbled into a sticky puddle of the liquid.

She found this incredibly funny and began hysterically laughing between choking hiccups. The girl rolled over so she was lying on her stomach before taking a large lick of the liquid. It bit her tongue and smoothed down her throat. She licked her lips.

The drink was making mesmerizing shapes alone the floor crevices and she traced them with her fingertips.

She wondered how the titans could keep such a delightful substance hidden for so long. For shame! Did they not want her to feel bubbly and wonderful?

Did they not want to share?

She had never known there was anything more pleasing on the terran planet than mustard!

Her thoughts shut off abruptly, leaving a sort of vast quiet.

After a few minutes, Starfire groaned boredly.

So what was she to do now that all the canned wonderment was gone?

Starfire tried a few minutes to push herself up, but the puddle was too slippery. She rolled over a few times to the dry side of the kitchen. The movement made her world whirl so fast she had to lay still a few more minutes.

When everything had calmed, she grasped the counter to help pull herself to her feet. In the process she pulled off two-drawer handles that clattered to the floor carelessly.

Still smiling, she stumbled into the living room. The couch looked so inviting now. So fluffy and all consuming…

Starfire wasn't seeing right. Things bobbed and moved erratically as she walked. She smiled stupidly still, reeling right then left in her venture to the couch.

She tripped over some kind of game station control and met the floor once again. Giggling, she rolled over onto her back.

She could see a few ceiling panels as the last of the daylight faded. They blurred and moved animatedly. Oh what fun it would be to be them. Dancing around without a care…

With sudden inspiration, she jumped to her feet. Yes, she should dance.

Moving semi-sluggish she twirled, the world zooming around her like a typhoon. She spun and twirled, moving to the side occasionally.

Around and around…

Flippantly, dizzily, and spun. Faster and faster, the momentum keeping her feet under her.

"Ring around the rosies" She cried, as everything became maddening. She felt light-headed and sick. Her stomachs were rising up against her...

But she couldn't stop. The lullaby Beast Boy had taught her broke from her lips.

"A pocket full of posies." She rasped, swaying with the spinning. Oh where was her lovely vacation? How had it become so vicious?

"Ashes! Ashes!" She threw her hands above her head, her hair whipped round and round.

Her steps faltered and she careened to the side until she hit the hard glass of the front window. "We all fall down." She murmured and slid to the floor.

A small laugh escaped, a drunken smile dying on her lips. She hit the floor painfully, toppling over.

Everything jerked back and excelled for a brief moment.

And then the world collapsed.

****

So these will be a series of one-shots. Mostly horror. No real continuity.

Oh, this was the effects of alcohol on Starfire. Poor girl, please review.

:Bloody Fae:


	3. Going and Going

****

Disclaimer: I DISclaim.

Chapter 3: Going and Going…

Cyborg skimmed over the information files. All the numbers registered just perfectly as he scrolled through them. Keystroke after keystroke he his fingers slid across the keyboard in his lap. He never missed a stroke.

They were the feedback reports on his bi-annual check-up. Checking every little crawl space of his electrical wiring to prevent any future bugs or problems. Same old stuff for the mechanical boy.

He cut off a yawn, his hands still moving gracefully across the keyboard.

Virus scanning was clean. Memory had plenty of room left, the temporary or useless files had been cleaned away for needed room.

There were no rusting or broken circuits and he was maintaining a 100 percent efficiency.

He listened to the sound of the other titans downstairs as he pulled up the last figures of the report. There was laughing and some kind of music playing.

Though Cyborg never had problems, he always liked to do the overview alone. There's was something about it that was all too personal.

Truly, it was his entirely flashing across the screen. For anyone other than the metal man, it would have been strange.

Mechanical effects we're working fine. His built in light system was flawless and his battery was-

His finger's skipped a beat, hitting a wrong key.

His battery was dying. Cyborg bit his lip, putting the keyboard back on the stand. He stood with a quickness that left his computer chair spinning.

The internal battery had a way of burning out rather quick and every time he had to replace it there was a deep sense of foreboding. He only had so many, and that part of his self was no longer replicate-able.

His father, working at S.T.A.R. Labs had been the only one able to create the tech he needed. Initially he had created plenty of gadgets to replace the wear and tear.

Of course, those things run out especially quick when you're a super hero.

And then his father died.

Cyborg moved across the room and stopped in front of a door. Inside concealed all his extra parts.

What he had left was all there would ever be. It was frightening, more than anything else he could dream, that someday there wouldn't be any left.

End of the assembly line.

Instead of growing old, dying of disease or fatigue he would simply shut off.

Like a damn computer.

He input his code number and verified voice recognition. The metal door hissed open, the automatic lights flickering on inside the small room. There were tall shelves categorized carefully with every little part that made Cyborg.

Solemn, he crossed the threshold, feeling phantom shivers up his robotic arms. Coming back to this room was like temping death, one day there wouldn't be what he needed.

But there had to be a battery left.

He sighed and turned down another row, sliding sideways in the small space. There were small labels, half peeling, on the shelving to try and identify the item. Cyborg had come back enough times for a battery to know where they were without looking.

He reached up above his head on a shelving, arching on his tip toes when he couldn't feel one.

Swiping clean air, Cyborg withdrew his arm. A kind of sick feeling settled into his stomach.

In truth, he had never really looked up onto the shelf to see how many were left. It would upset him too much to be counting down his life. He knew, as soon as he learned how many we're left he would calculate the amount of life he had left.

He was a machine, it was only natural.

But he could no longer reach the black box he was after… it was time to see how many were left.

Though the temperature conditions in the room were rather cold, and he had internal cooling, the boy was giving off a heavy sweat. He tread back through the room to his computer, grabbing the computer chair.

Lifting it over his head, he hauled it back into the room. His heart was hammering and his breath was choppy.

The laughter downstairs now made him sick and nervous.

He put the chair down and rolled it beside the shelving. His breath came out in a small puff from the heat he was generating in his anxious state.

What would he do if there were none left?

Ever since Starfire had regaled them of her visit to the future he had worried about his parts. In her future he had run out. He was stuck depending on the power from the tower to keep him running.

It would be worse than any kind of jail imaginable. You were the only thing keeping yourself from freedom.

He gripped the top of the chair, carefully stepping onto it. It inched a bit under his weight, but held him. He used the shelving to help steady himself as he raised to full height.

Suddenly, all the higher shelves were within eyesight.

And in the very back of the shelf on which he was looking… was two black glossy batteries.

Only two.

If he was still capable, he might have cried. He snatched the two with one arm and stumbled off the back of the chair. It fell over with a clatter as he dismounted.

His mind was already averaging the past battery lifetimes and doubling it. It gave him… somewhere between one and two years.

His throat was thick and he felt as though he couldn't swallow. On his way out of the room he smacked the reset and close button. The door snapped shut behind him, followed by the clicking of locks.

The computer part of his mind was theorizing ways to fix this. He could stay plugged in most of the time, using batteries only for missions. Spend his time trying to replicate the battery (something he had tried many times and lost precious batteries doing so). He could always-

He stopped thinking that way. He was more human, the machine did not get to decide what to do.

The boy dropped the two energy sources on his computer desk, before moving over to a chair on the other side of the room. He dropped into it with a smack, his face falling into his hands as he groaned. Sadly disheveled he tried to sort out where to start.

He had friends, team mates, practically his _family_ just downstairs. How could he possibly tell them? How could he be so selfish as to weight them down with the secret of his problem?

Cyborg muttered to himself incoherently, wishing for a way to release the depressed feeling that had quickly swallowed his insides.

Why, why, _why?_

It was _unfair!_ All he did was work and help to protect the good and defeat the evil. Everything in his ability he did to accomplish this. So why was he to be chained down, sentenced to a life worse than death while evil constantly broke free?

He slammed a fist into the nearby wall without thinking.

It resounded loudly, immediately recalling his attention. He jumped out of the chair alarmed at the chunk of wall that was crumbling to the floor. Downstairs had gotten oddly quiet.

He cursed himself, faltering over to the door to his lab, knowing the rest of the Titans would be arriving soo-

"What was that?" Robin slid into the room, looking tense and on guard. Raven appeared next from a black puddle, followed by a floating Starfire and a bird Beast Boy.

Cyborg tried his best to fill the range of view so the four wouldn't catch the hole or the two batteries. "Just got a little angry with a game station game that wouldn't load on my computer." He covered, hoping he still wasn't sweating.

Robin shifted, giving him a curious expression. He sidled sideways slightly, assessing that something wasn't quite… right.

"Stand down." Robin called waving an arm at the three behind him.

"Sweet, Star ya still up for another round?" Beast Boy called. There was an agreement from the girl, and the scrambling sound of their leave.

Raven paused, staring at her leaders back.

Robin seemed to feel her eyes on him. "I'll be right there." He spoke without turning to her.

She nodded anyway and disappeared in a flare of black wings.

Cyborg now turned his attention to the one left. Robin, though shorter, looked up at him with equal eyes.

"Care to talk about it?" The Boy Wonder raised one eyebrow.

"Talk about what?" Cyborg rubbed his neck, feeling the slick perspiration still there.

Robin shook his head slowly and sighed to himself. "Someone once told me only the selfish and untrusting keep their problems to themselves." He gave Cyborg a meaningful look, before turning and leaving.

Cyborg stood still until Robin had left the room and his heavy metal footsteps were fading away. As if timed, his shoulders slumped and Cyborg deflated once more.

In his absence, his internal computer had begun running once more in its cold calculating ways.

Cyborg slid to the floor, leaning against the wall and closing his eye. He didn't have enough energy to care.

His insides wretched at the double meaning of that thought.

When he finally opened his eye, a glinting from the other side of the room caught his interest. The two boxes reflected the light of his computer monitor.

Maybe he should just virus himself up until he crashed. At least then he wouldn't be wasting away his life until his parts just stopped. He picked at the tiled floor with his mechanical fingers. It peeled away easily.

Disgusted with its fragility, he turned away from it. Instead he picked at the wiring along his knee. It was so intricate, taking such time to put together… and he could rip it up in an instant if he wanted.

The boy felt antsy. What was he to do now?

The batteries mocked him from across the room. Stupid infernal things. He hated depending on other things. He wished to be self sufficient… to be human.

But no, he was the exception to life. He was the one with that proved cheating death was an option. To some he was an abomination. No Gods or religion was kindly to an abomination.

There was a prick of a nerve in his mind. He looked down at his knee he had been subconsciously scratching at. A few wires were frayed, one completely detached.

The small portion of his knee was black.

The light always dimmed to dark.

Cyborg pushed himself up, tired of sitting there idly. Instead, he moved over to the plug in, reeling his port out.

He jammed it into the plug and hit the shut down button. Before his calculating side could warn him of equipment malfunction and misuse he shut down.

In sleep mode, the glowing blue of his circuits faded to black. It matched the inky color of the two last batteries, one of which Cyborg had yet to find out didn't work.

****

I actually developed a lot of ideas while writing this. I may transfer a few into a story eventually, because Cyborg is such an interesting and complex character.

Review and let me know what you thought.

:Bloody Fae:


	4. Scientist

**Disclaimer: Me no own.**

**Chapter 4: Scientist**

Cyborg was a scientist. If it was plausible, if it was buildable, he strived to do it. His first life had been stolen away. Instead of pushing his limits physically he now worked to stretch mentally.

His research on robotics and human life were astounding. He may have been the leading professional on the subject, but then again he kept that to himself.

Nothing sounds stranger to the general public than a hero attempting to break natural laws. Ever since his first chance at a life had been taken he had pursued this new one. It was sinful, condemning, no one could know.

The boy typed in fluid keystrokes, watching the data pass by in quick succession. They were doubling.

There was a mingled sound of contentment that rumbling in his throat.

He pushed away from the computer quickly, twirling to the adjoining table. A large telescope sat there crouching over a small sample. To the human eye there seemed to be nothing but a drop of liquid settled in the middle.

Using his human eye he peered into the eyepiece, adjusting the focus. A silly grin spread across his features as he pulled back. Without pause, he snatched a small wire behind him and plugged it into the telescope.

The opposite end of the wire lead into his computer that was now downloading the image from the telescope.

Cyborg turned to see his beautiful creation on the larger scale.

They looked like colorless egg yolks, floating beside each other. Slightly bulged in the center, the pregnant ones quickly split into two. The produced second cell was identical.

Perfect cell replication.

The two split into four.

The boy had been monitoring his experiment for some time, but it was only recently that they had started multiplying and growing. He had yet to figure out why this was occurring. Elements of the experiment had stayed the same, so why was it blooming now?

He continued watching the screen, overjoyed with every duplication. The cells were human, spliced with genetically altered iron molecules. He was generating human growth, life, much faster and much stronger than naturally possible.

It would enable humans to produce a better immune system and his altercations would create much stronger cells, therefore stronger humans.

It gave him a shiver of excitement.

Greedily, he pulled up the camera to catch where the rest of the titans were. He didn't need anyone busting in on him in mid-work. It was his alone; his baby was too premature for the world to see yet.

Beast Boy was versing Robin at a new combat game in the living room. He closed off that camera and searched for Raven. He was in luck when he caught the roof feed; both Starfire and Raven were hovering at the end of the roof in meditation.

He switched back to his cells.

The cloning had slowed, as though the process were coming to an end. Cyborg typed a command in to collect data. It was curious that the cells went through periodic growth. Natural cells duplicated perpetually, which lead him to believe his engineer modifications were the ones slowing the process.

The data came back and Cyborg quickly scanned through it, his technologically altered mind processing the stream of numbers.

The air pressure and temperature had stayed the same; the light energy input was stable but-

He sat forward in his chair, abruptly banging the computer desk and making the monitor jiggle. He placed a hand quickly on its side to steady the picture.

There seemed to be a change in chemical make up within the cells. During the replication stage the hemoglobin and copper count had spiked suddenly and dwindled back into nearly nothing.

When it reached zero, the growth had stopped.

Cyborg cupped his chin and sat back carefully. How had there been a sudden jump like that? He had made sure the air was filtered and there was nothing within proximity to accidentally get into his experiment.

But something had. He stretched out his arms, cupping his hands together in his lap. Lucky for him that something had, or he would not have gotten any progression out of his modified cells.

There had to be something around here with that make-up to...

Cyborg's eyes glazed over a small cut on his upper arm. It was a small red gash sandwiched in the skin between his mechanical parts.

Blood had both hemoglobin and copper.

"Ah, of course" He shook his head, moving back over to the sample. His iron must need an excess of the proteins and copper in blood to continue its growth.

He licked his lips with wide eyes. What he needed now was to… test his hypothesis.

With eager hands, he shuffled across his desk for the scalpel. It had to be around here somewhere. His metal hands clinked against a fellow metal member.

Wildly smiling he grasped the blade. It glittered in his overhead light.

Sample pulled in front of him; Cyborg lowered the sharp blade to his arm. Without flinching he pulled it across his dark skin. It left a quickly dotting line of crimson.

There was a pipette near by that he snatched to extract the blood cleanly.

An eye for perfection, he leaned close to the sample, holding the pipette. He pushed just a drop out. It landed without an audible sound, dissipating within the clear liquid almost instantaneously.

There was a beep from his computer at the spiking in the data.

He turned back to the screen. The cells split with an inhuman speed, two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, too many to continue counting.

They were taking in all the excess proteins with a basic animalistic hunger to feed its growth. Cyborg watched like a mad scientist over his beautiful working creature. Oh, what beauty!

Humans believed that there was no higher being than themselves. It was amazing and frightening at the same time, he had just proved the race wrong. It was a base mixture of human and machine, more perfect than either of them could ever hope to be.

The machine gave the human durability and strength. Disease and aging would be slowed and machinery would allow the human mind to sort knowledge in an objective manner, setting the pains of emotions aside.

Humanity gave the machinery feelings, the ability to think with compassion, to know right from wrong not only by numbers and facts. It gave machinery the excuse to be imperfect, incorrect at times and the right to a soul.

Cyborg watched his creation until the replication slowed once again. This time his sample was larger than just a drop in the container. It had doubled its size possibly a hundred times over, filling the dish with a thin layer of coppery colored liquid.

"Hey Cy," Came a voice from the other side of his lab. The man froze for a second, then fumbled quickly to close out the program he had been watching with a sort of fatherly affection.

"What!" He snapped pulling himself quickly up to stare across at Beast Boy. The green boy was a little taken aback from the sudden burst of anger and backed a few steps out of the lab.

"Um... I uh, just wanted to see if you wanted to play the new Samurai 3." He followed it with a sheepish grin.

Cyborg motioned to the door, "Don't you ever knock?" He growled to keep the fuzzy boy's attention from wavering to other things in the room.

Laughing nervously, Beast Boy preferred to stay silent.

Cyborg crossed the room after a hefty sigh. "I'll be right down." He dictated and pushed Beast Boy gently out. He made no protest, so the door slammed tightly behind him.

A moment of fatigue melted through Cyborg and he leaned against the door. That had been… tragically close. If it had been any of the other tower's occupants… well, he would have a lot of difficult explaining to do.

After all, creating life was left to either a human partnership, or some religious force.

Cyborg would participate in neither, so he forged his own way.

Would the villagers burn him down for creating a monster? Quite possibly. Cyborg would not stop though- it was his passion. It was his new life, a life of heroic work and a life to better humanity.

Even if some of humanity refused to understand his righteous purpose.

He trucked back over to his precious cells. With a delicate caution, he capped the sample and moved over to his locking freezer. It was kept at negative 200 degrees to ensure nothing messed with the composition. In a way it was like cryogenic freezing.

He locked his baby inside and spun a new combination into the lock, just in case anyone had been snooping to figure out the combination.

Then there was the computer to deal with. Usually he hid the files deep inside the tower database in a file restricted unless you knew just how to open it.

With his knowledge of computers, he was doubtful even Robin would be able to find and openit.

Cyborg headed for the door, not tempting himself to look back. He already had a ridiculous smile on his face that his friends would probably ask about.

But it was a perfect day. It was… the breakthrough.

Locking behind him, the lab room sealed with a complicated set of entry locks. Cyborg started for the living room.

Yes, he was a scientist.

**I always thought Cyborg could be easily misguided by technology and science since he's so close to the both of them****. There were a few references to Frankenstein of anyone caught them.**

**Please review, input and ideas are always appreciated.**

**p.s. Go see Corpse Bride, now. It's beautiful, the music was my inspiration for this one.**

**:Bloody Fae:**


	5. To Be Humanity

**Disclaimer: Me no own.**

**Chapter 5: To Be Humanity**

Raven watched her finger slowly turn purple. The blood was clotting at the tip of her pinky, giving her gray skin a most peculiar tint.

It amazed her.

Waiting for her tea water to boil, Raven had claimed a kitchen table seat. There was no one awake yet. The darkness of the kitchen made her feel calm though, nothing stirred in her mind.

It was times like this that she wondered if she was still able to feel. She became so hard, so controlled and collected at times that even she herself wondered if she was still feeling.

With a careful finger she had plucked out a strand of violet hair. It pricked, but not enough to ensure her she was still among the human capabilities of sensitivity.

Slow curiosity lead her to wind the purple string around her finger. It wound and wound, cutting off the natural flow of blood. The pressure made her feel uneasy, she fought the human reaction to unwind the binding.

But that reaction settled her inner demons. She was still fearful of her body and health. She _felt_ it.

* * *

It was a week later before the consuming feeling overtook her again. She was training with the rest of the Titans. Robin had demanded weekly training to work on better cooperation within the team.

She moved through everything flawless. It was staged as though she were acting. Humans were anything but flawless.

Dodging the lasers she was able to catch glimpses of her teammates. They stumbled, their timing was off and occasionally the red-beamed lasers nicked them. Even Robin had to take a quick back flip to avoid a land mine detonation he hadn't seen.

Given, Raven did had the advantage of flight. Still, even Starfire was still messing up occasionally. Her uniform caught on barbs; her star bolts missed their targets…

Raven felt robotic.

She looked across the barren training course. Much of the course had already been destroyed and they had only been going at it for about a half an hour.

Her eyes caught on one of the last standing barbed poles. Originally these barbed wire poles had been arranged as a sort of air maze. The point was to get through them quickly and not get caught.

When they had nicked Starfire's uniform she had taken out most of them.

The mystic swallowed a large breath of air and made sure none of her fellow comrades were paying specific attention to her.

In a blur of blue and a flare of black magic, she rushed at the pole.

At the last moment she took a graceful arc just to the side of the barbs. She made sure it was still close enough to catch her.

There was blazing pain of shredding skin and Raven gasped uncontrollably. Her speed cut itself off and she paused midair. On the left side her cape was torn and a fevered wound on her upper arm had started bubbling red.

Clapping her hand over the wound she fixed her cape. A small bit of satisfaction was present in her stature.

When the cut stopped bleeding she wiped her hand on the inside of her cape and flew over to meet the rest at the finish line.

* * *

For some reason, after that training session, Robin had given them a break. Even a month later he did not insist they train.

Raven might have assumed it was because of her, but Robin made no other indication that he knew anything about her.

But she had bigger problems than training at the moment. Starfire had just commissioned her to cook once again. After all, the food she cooked had been so appealing to the Tameranian the last time.

There was no getting away from the sunny smile of her's.

It was two pans of burned noodles and a charred chicken before her mind started to bug her. All her failures of cooking hadn't disheartened her at all. She felt nothing for her failed attempts, she just grabbed another food and attempted at it.

There was no anger, frustration or sadness. Surely humans weren't this okay with countless failures.

Raven dumped the chicken into the trash. Moving back to the stove she heard the cheering of Cyborg, having just bested Beast Boy at whatever game they had been playing. Starfire congratulated the victor sweetly.

There was another box of rice in the cabinet and she levitated it down. The stove was already hot so all she needed was a pan-

Inadvertently, or maybe purposely seeing the track her mind was revolving around, she had slid her right forearm back over the still hot stove. Her bare skin pressed into the blasting heat.

It jerked back quickly and she bit her lit tightly to keep from calling out. There was the warmth of blood on her tongue when she turned her arm over to have a look at the damage.

There was a half circle reddening across the pale flesh. It still felt like it was on fire.

Raven moved to get some ice from the freezer. The words rewound and played over and over in her mind.

It _felt_.

L I N E A G E

Days after that she had managed to hide the burn. It had developed into a nearly crimson mark, but was fading fast with her healing abilities. No one had noticed.

Or, that's what she had thought.

"Raven." Robin called her name just as she was going to be one evening. They were the last two up.

She didn't come any closer to him; she only paused and waited for him to go on.

He spoke softly, "Why did you do it?"

There was a knot in her throat. She took a calming breath to beat that emotion, whatever it was, back. "Do what?"

He got up from his spot on the couch to look at her. Robin did not clarify, but he really didn't need to.

Raven turned her head, her eyes tracing the lines of the floor. "I don't know."

"Surely you must." He pressed. There was a frown pulling at his lips.

"I need proof of my own humanity." She conceited quickly. There was a sickened feeling that welled up within her before being sedated. It felt like fear.

Finished with her evening and with talking to him she turned for the stairs.

"Isn't your existence enough?" He called after her.

When Raven made it to the top of the stairs she dropped him the answer.

"No."

There was a click of a door as she retired to her room.

**I haven't written Raven in so long, oh how I missed her. Self-defamation, fun stuff kiddies.**

**I will also be cooking up a lovely horror story for Halloween. Lovely holiday it is.**

**Please review.**

**:Bloody Fae:**


	6. Frostbite

**Disclaimer: Me no own.**

**Chapter 6: Frostbite**

Robin watched the sun rising, he watched the sun fall.

He watched the moon cascade ghostly colors across the sky. He watched the water far below scraping at the sandy island shore, slowly pulling it into the watery depths.

Lately, Robin could often be found on the roof. Staring off lost in what seemed to be his own universe. He was not, however, lost in any other universe than the one his body occupied.

The waters were chilly for this time of year. Winter was quickly approaching and a chill from far below the water's surface had risen up and claimed the warm waters for itself.

The boy enjoyed watching the things of the world. It was a new sort of fascination. The world was made of angles, things colliding into each other to create the illusion of unity. Individually they were nothing but shapes, but fit together just right they painted some sort of beautiful array.

Robin came this far up to escape. The coming blistery wind had driven anyone with sense away from such heights. He couldn't take their looks, the suspicion.

He was a shape that wasn't fitting into the picture.

Why? He didn't want their help. Didn't need their guidance. In the bat cave there was a known truth: any problems that interfered with work were dealt with on ones own. He could fix whatever was ailing him, talking with an "understanding" source wouldn't do any good.

Robin picked a small piece of cement that had broken from the edge of the tower. Quickly jerking his arm he chucked it off the top. It sailed a good couple meters before the wind and gravity caught onto it.

Robin sighed when he lost sight of it within the crashing waves.

Oh how nice would it be to become swallowed in the ice depths…

The idea struck him like a rush. The waters must feel so good at this time of night; the sun had long gone away.

Without another thought the boy latched a bird-a-rang onto the side of the tower roof. He tilted backwards to fall gracefully off the roof.

Wind rushed against him as his line continued running through taking him down the towers length with a great speed. Robin waited until there was the jerk that signaled the line was almost at its end.

The ground wasn't far from him now; he spliced the cord and dropped the rest of the distance. He landed feet first and used the momentum to crouch down further so his gloved hands eventually dug into the dirt. It was the same way a cat fell from heights.

He pulled off the sand covered gloves and threw them on the ground, forcing himself upright.

Waves crashed much louder here. There was a perfumed sea air that assailed his senses when he turned to the water. It was perfect under the half moonlight. They looked like waves of liquid blue velvet.

Robin started for them, stepping out of his boots on the way.

His socked toes were the first to touch the waters. The quick change in temperatures rose a chill that ran through his body.

It felt so nice that he stepped further. The waves sloshed around his ankles now, soaking beneath the bottoms of his suit and prickling his skin.

His toes were numbing.

Robin didn't care. He welcomed the unfeeling, he wasn't like Raven, couldn't be like Raven and uncaring at will…

The water was getting deeper, or maybe Robin was walking further. He neither knew nor cared.

Ever-deeper came the water. It was numbing him from the bottom up.

No more worries, no more feelings…

The velvet danced around his waist now. Waves dared him ever further, giving him larger doses of icy water. His toes seemed to burn now; they were so cold they felt like fire.

Robin had to laugh. How wonderful would it be to get frostbite? How easy it would be to put himself out of the crime fighting business. All he had to do was fight instinct. Fight the need for warmth… he could do it.

Water was brushing his mid-chest. Every pour of his skin had tightened to preserve heat. His teeth were chattering horridly and his body shook of its own accord.

Oh, to give it all up! To become that normal boy once more, what was his name again?

He gave a sort of half laughter that almost sounded like a sob. He couldn't even remember that boy anymore. He wasn't even human anymore, just some piece of hero complex that everyone bought into.

For living in a tower with a bunch of freaks, he had to be the worst. While they fought so hard to retain their humanity he had gone and carelessly thrown his away. For what good was his humanity when he was expected to be perfect?

It was getting so dark now. Where had the moonlight gone?

Robin felt sluggish. He could still hear the waves, but they were getting more distant. Where was he, and why couldn't he feel anything?

The boy tried to wiggle his toes and got nothing. He looked out into the lake. The waves still came toward him, but they were bleary. In fact, everything was jaded…

* * *

Cyborg walked to the edge of the water watching the boy. The younger boy wavered in the water for a moment before collapsing and disappearing beneath a fresh wave.

He sighed heavily and started after Robin.

* * *

Cyborg seemed to find himself at a repeat performance. It was an almost daily occurrence for Robin to start on the roof and end up beneath the waves.

And yet, Robin never showed signs of remembering the night.

Cyborg dried the boy off carefully to ward away any frostbite symptoms and pumped an IV of nutrients into him. From the water to Robin's bed was about a two-hour period.

But he did it every day. If not…

Morning would come and Robin would not.

Cyborg worried every time as he pulled his friend from the water. Robin never accepted help, but continued to try and drown himself. One of these times the water would overwhelm him. Winter was coming and one day the water would be too cold, or his body would simply give out.

Wrapping the covers around Robin, Cyborg snuck from his leaders room.

Robins undoing would not come from any villainous work, Cyborg had noted many nights ago, he had internal demons for that.

**Because I haven't done Robin yet. **

**Beast Boy next I suppose. I've tried a bunch of different ideas already, but he's rather hard in the horror genre.**

**Review.**

**:Bloody Fae:**


	7. Rots Your Brain

**Disclaimer: Me no own.**

**Chapter 7: Rots Your Brain**

Beast Boy was unable to conquer his addiction. He neither had the strength, nor will to do so.

None of the tower occupants seemed to notice his wearing away. Maybe they were too busy with their own things, or maybe he was decomposing internally.

Beside crime fighting stints, the boy hadn't moved from his lair on the couch. The remote control was stuck to his hand; there were imprints deep in his green skin from gripping the device.

His game station was within easy reach incase the TV became boring reruns. There were old and new games piled on each side of him on the couch.

His eyes drooped, red rimmed and tired as he clicked across the channels. Static, infomercial, rerun, soap…

Television required no thinking. It allowed the mind to take a general backseat and shut down for a while. Beast Boy found thinking painful.

Whenever he got to thinking, his mind would backtrack itself. It always seemed to jump to times before the Titans. His childhood, parents, the Doom Patrol…

The boy had never settled any of the horrid things of his past. He continued to run from them, as cowardly as it sounded. It was beyond mental capacity to take in his treacherous life up until now.

He wasn't logical like Robin, or calm like Raven or even tough like Cyborg.

Beast Boy was a clown. He hid his problems under jokes, smiles, games.

He clicked on some movie he had only seen six times, less than everything else on. Green lips moved along with the words as the actors moved across the screen talking to one another.

There was an indenture in the couch where Beast Boy was sitting. How long had it been since he had gotten up? How long since he had actually turned off the tube?

It had been a long time, possibly too long.

Generally he watched somewhere between 14-24 hours of TV a day, depending on villain activity, training and sleep.

Beast Boy found himself requiring less and less sleep as of recently. Usually he would watch late night talk shows until his eyes fell closed and he slumped to sleep against his pile of games.

Now, it was nearly morning until he even became weary. Even then he lay with his eyes closed for hours until his conscious shut off.

His mind would shock him back awake at an unholy hour of the morning. It didn't make much sense. Beast Boy might have pondered its strangeness if the intros for a new cartoon hadn't just slid across the TV.

Raven was usually kind enough to levitate food over to the boy. He would lounge on his throne and gobble his food, putting it on the coffee table that Starfire would later hover over and clean off.

Bathroom was a mad dash up and a quick rush back.

Showers seemed non-existent; it was rare for Beast Boy to even make it up as far as his room.

He licked his dry lips and mumbled something along with the words on the television. The boy wasn't even sure what was on anymore, but apparently his ears and vocal cords did.

Maybe he should try and play some more game station, at least that was a little more interactive. Now how did he do that again?

Looking down, there was a controller by his right arm. He stared at it a long while wondering how to get it started.

After a while had passed without action he turned back to the glowing screen and proceeded to click through the channels once again.

"Hey, BB!" Someone was calling him, there were thundering footsteps.

"We never stop working for you." Beast Boy could hear himself mutter it.

"Um, what?" Cyborg stepped in front of the TV grinning at the green boy.

"You can get everything you see here for the low, low, price of 19.95." Beast Boy still stared straight ahead.

Cyborg raised an eyebrow. "Beast Boy?" He waved an arm in front of the younger boys face. He seemed unfazed.

"Maury!" Beast Boy yelped, his eyes stayed dulled.

Cyborg stepped back and craned around to look at the TV. It was fuzzy without signal. He tried shaking Beast Boy's shoulder.

He moved almost lifelessly. "We're all alright, we're all alright…" The green boy was singing something.

Cyborg swallowed and hurried off to go find another titan. Before he left the room Beast Boy exclaimed something about no sugar.

* * *

The first one he found was Raven. Without a word he grabbed the mystics arm and dragged her (much to her complaint) to the living room. "There's something not right with him." Cyborg motioned to the boy on the couch, he hadn't moved an inch.

"Don't go away, because when we get back…" Beast Boy sounded almost monotone.

Raven watching his silently for a few minutes, it sounded like he was reciting snippets of television.

"An available all wheel drive, car of the year…" The boy swayed slightly.

"Go get Robin." Raven ordered.

Cyborg nodded and dashed off. Raven moved around the cluttered living room table and sat herself beside the boy. "Beast Boy, can you hear me?"

"Roger that, take 'er down nice and easy now."

"Beast Boy." She leaned closer trying to pull him back from wherever he had gone.

He started reciting what sounded like a historical account of the Civil War.

"Garfield…" She whispered, calling the darkness to her fingertips. "I don't want to do this, you need to come back."

Robin appeared at her side suddenly. His posture was strong and strict. Cyborg was a little way off. Raven motioned to Cyborg to occupy Starfire.

"I might be able to bring him back." She looked up with a slight crease of worry. Mingling with the mind was something dangerous.

Robin stood solemn for a long time listening to Beast Boy babble on and on. He was now almost leaning on Raven, the remote clutched tightly in his paw. His eyes were drooping and his voice was now raspy and foreign.

Finally Robin nodded his head.

Raven placed the tips of her fingers on the sides of Beast Boy's forehead. His gaze was vacant.

She took a breath and muttered her spell under it. Energy rippled down her arms, pulling her soul self out with it.

With an edge like a knife she plunged into his mind. Upon entering there was a blossoming pain and Beast Boy screamed.

Robin knelt beside the boy who had fallen off the sofa in a crying fit of shrieks. There was a sudden jerking of Raven's body as she was thrown back. She opened her eyes once more.

A frown pulled at her lips and she shook her head. There were two outcomes to exploiting the mind. The victim either reclaimed themselves… or lost their mind altogether.

Beast Boy's screeching stretched into the cold of the night.

**I've been looking for an ideal Halloween story… and I just got it while writing this one. The first chapter should be up sometime soon, but no it doesn't even relate to this chapter.**

**And I just flipped through channels for the TV excerpts.**

**Review.**

**:Bloody Fae:**


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